


Leech

by Hambone



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Immobilization, Male Anri, Mild Blood, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Nonbinary Character, Other, Overstimulation, Slime, Stuffing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: Anri gets into a bind in the Catacombs of Carthus when confronted with a strangely familiar enemy.
Relationships: Anri of Astora/Horace the Hushed, Rotten Flesh of Aldrich/Anri of Astora
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Leech

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do slime sex for a while and my distress at the lack of good Anri and Horace content pushed me over the edge haha. When they realize exactly what that slime is I'm sure it's going to be a PTSD field day. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  


They had gotten separated in the darkness. Anri blamed themself. They had been surrounded by Undead bones, reanimated by the horror of the curse, and they had taken a step back without looking only to find no ground beneath their feet. With a harsh cry they'd tumbled down a floor, two floors, and Horace was lost above them. It had hurt, but not too badly, not as much as their pride hurt, nor as much as their fear for Horace, left alone in the perilous situation above. They'd tried calling up, but could hear nothing, see nothing through the inky black shadows, and so they'd begun to wander.

The fact that they ran into little more than the various rats and lizards that made the catacombs their home was something they should have taken as an omen, but their mind was elsewhere. The more they walked, the more lost they felt, and every second away from Horace was one where something could go horrifically wrong without them at his side. Though between the two of them Horace was by far the more accomplished warrior, it was rare for them to be apart, and the anxiety it caused them built inside until they were running in the darkness, sword drawn. This was why they were so unprepared for the creature’s attack.

It enveloped them all at once, darkness swallowing their vision and a great weight falling upon their shoulders. Anri reactivity tried to jump back, but without their usual agility it was more of a slow stumble. They tried to shield their face but their arms were sluggish, like they were trying to swim through swamp mud. That is what it felt closest to, some kind of thick and sticky clay from a marsh, but for the fact that it continued to move all around them, not in the natural way of earth pulled towards earth but up and around their body, slithering into every crevice in their armor and between the folds of cloth on their tunic.

“Horace!”

Shouting was a move they immediately regretted. With the blanket of ooze surrounding their helmet, all Anri accomplished was near deafening themselves. Worse than that, opening their mouth to draw the large breath that required had filled their head with the truly noxious stench of the sludge, a scent that hit like a physical force, knocking them back another step as though that would help them escape it. It was a horribly familiar smell, that of death and rot, something every hollow knew well, but so much more than anything Anri was used to, even with their ruined nostrils. Worse than that, it was descending fast over their body, already having reached their waist, and the lower it sank the tighter its hold became. They were clothed in Astora’s ancestral armor, a strong and heavily enchanted set of plate and chain, but somehow the slime infiltrated the warding spells easily, and then Anri felt the cold touch upon their bare flesh, and screamed for Horace again.

It was a touch both foreign and all too familiar, horrible and liquid, having slithered down the neck of their tunic, even past their hood, their maille coif, their ragged underclothes that barely held together as they quickly became damp and heavy. Still struggling to move, Anri now reached for their own throat, as if they could pry the sludge back out of their clothing, praying that Horace was nearby, heard them, saw them, was coming to destroy this awful thing that reminded them too much of a long shunned memory, the sense of drowning. Somehow it had not entered their helmet yet and for that they were torn between relief and dread, because it implied a kind of sentience to the creature, that it knew what it was doing, divesting them of the ability to move but not outright killing or maiming them.

The coldness spread out over their chest once inside, clinging like a second, evil skin. Their heart, a thing so seldom heard, was pounding so wildly that it was nearly deafening, all the sounds from the outside world swallowed by the blob until that ringing was pitched up to a scream. Perhaps sensing it, the ooze paused before it crossed the spot beneath their breast where the muscle perched, throbbing. Savoring it, Anri thought, enjoying it, like that man once had. But no, no, this was different, a beast from the walls of the Catacombs, far, far away from their childhood. It could not be.

By now it had stretched itself thin over their body, reaching their knees. Anri could feel the way it groped about more clearly now, pulsing like muscle, like organ tissue, prodding and searching blindly for something Anri refused to fathom. The air inside their helmet was growing thin, so that even with the stench they found themselves gasping open mouthed to keep their head level. Horace, Horace, where are you?

Like hands with hundreds of clammy fingers, the sludge cupped the soft muscle of Anri’s chest. It was a feeling that was immediately recognizable for what it was, and had Anri the capacity to, they would have cried out, in fear, in indignance, slapped away the touch. Instead they quivered in place, unable now to even fall down, the slime cementing them to the floor where it had begun to puddle. Lecherously, the goop kneaded what it had found, covering them completely as no human palms did, and it was with an unsettlingly practiced skill that Anri’s nipples were targeted next. The fluid swirled about their dugs, lapping and sucking them into itself, too nimble for any tongue or finger. At the same time their pectorals were squeezed together, the stress in their muscles nothing compared to the unnatural strength of the thing.

The lack of air combined with the bold handling of their undisciplined chest worked viciously against them, an unwanted pleasure growing hot wherever the sludge touched their skin. Anri had never been particularly daring in their conduct, especially not now, when they had become what they were. Even Horace, dear Horace, kept his hands to himself about them, too polite and kind to admit to what Anri was sure was revulsion of their deteriorating state. They had not even removed their clothing in what felt like years now, ashamed of the body that lay within, ashamed and afraid to see it themselves. They had almost forgotten what flesh upon flesh was like, and this monstrous thing from the depths preyed upon them in ways they had never been, ever. Each forceful twist and suck upon their nipples bloomed with heat, their pectorals manipulated like soft breasts, massaged and caressed. The terror that built within them at the realization of how fragile their control over this sensual side of themselves was overwhelming.

And there, between their legs, the goo had begun to find its way in, even as the swell that nursed Anri’s chest continued to slip down their taut stomach. That was too much, something Anri would rather die than allow, but they could do nothing, arms still stuck half raised above their head as the glop held them. Though their trousers were thick, the liquid had softened the fabric, till it stuck like glue to their skin beneath, the burbling pressure of the stuff already having sought out their modest cock. It cupped the bulge with a deliberateness that left no room for doubt about its understanding of what it did, molding around the shape of their prick to begin to tease it. Anri, whose head was swimming with lack of breath, hated how quickly it responded, already awakened by the continued plucking at their chest. From above their waistline, the sludge poured down, finding its openings and widening them with the force of its ardor, closer and closer, tickling their flesh into goose-pimples.

Anri was going to pass out soon, and they were grateful. Without the help of their companion, it was likely they would die here, an awful thing, and they could only pray Horace would know to return to the bonfire and wait there, and that when the reemerged from the ashes they would still know their duty. As sluggish as their mind had become in the short time it had been since they were enveloped, they could not find it within themselves to be afraid, only saddened by the loss, yet another death, widening the little black hole on their left shoulder, another part of their mind gone, memories they wouldn't even know to miss taken from them. They would be free from this hell, though, this monster that toyed with them in ways Anri did not even fully understand, from the wetness that was now matting their pubic curls, creeping down the crack of their buttocks.

Like a bubble bursting, the sludge broke over their helmet, and Anri’s body gulped for air instinctively. The light rushing back in blinded them with how intense it seemed, their chest expanding wildly as the lust for air overtook them into hyperventilation. They shook about, trying to see what had happened, how they had been freed – only they hadn't. The moment they'd managed to blink back into awareness, the slime found their half erect cock, rushing to suckle about the shaft, to cup and cradle their soft balls. Still mad with the need for air, Anri could only moan pitifully, croaking in their attempt to form words. Just as with their chest, which it still greedily sucked upon, the slime was knowledgeable in its explorations of their sex. Their trousers hung loosely about their skinny hips, flesh shrunken as hollowing slowly set in, and this left plenty of room for the creature to manipulate their cock into hardness. As it encircled the shaft it seemed to undulate, clenching and unclenching smoothly, like a well trained hole might, getting them fully erect in maddeningly little time.

This was distracting enough that they were again taken by surprise when the liquid found its mark at their behind. Rough tongues of slime lapped across their asshole, and the sensation was enough to make them jump even suspended as they were. As if trying to soothe Anri down, the touches in front grew more firm, the sludge creating texture around the head of their prick, beads of firm but malleable mucus that twisted around the sensitive skin til their knees nearly gave. In fact, if it were not for the heavy weight of gunk that trapped their legs, Anri would have collapsed long ago, distraught and weakened by the onslaught of sensations.

Uncaring of their struggle, the tendril of slime slid across their hole again, more insistent this time, but not yet going so far as to penetrate them.

“No,” Anri croaked, finding their voice again as panic surged inside them, “don't!”

The slime in front squeezed their balls gently, tickling down past their perineum as it did so to meet the rest of it where it continued to stroke across Anri’s ass. It had been such a long time since Anri had felt arousal at all, in regards to anything, longer still since they’d been able to take themself to hand without feeling ill at the sight of their own flesh. While not as grotesquely hollowed as many they’d encountered, Anri could see the signs upon their body and it was more than enough to dampen any passion they might have harbored, too consumed with the fear of their mortality to find any pleasure in seeing how their skin clung to the bones of their palm, or how the veins bloomed darkly beneath. This too now worked against them, as even these unwanted caresses, saturated with the stink of death that the ooze emitted, already had them on the brink of orgasm.

Every fold of skin was probed, constantly stroked across by the ever moving sludge, which seemed to kiss and suck everywhere it touched. Their nipples were aching now, having been pulled and pinched continuously, their pectorals and abdomen pet with hundreds of hands. Pulling their buttocks apart, the slime had suctioned to their asshole now, and like a greedy mouth it tongued their hole without pause, never quite penetrating. It was far too much, and as their balls began to contract tight, Anri began to climb into hysterics.

“Horace! Help me, oh, Horace!”

Their broken cry repeated through the cavernous hallways almost mockingly. Unable to turn their body to look around them, Anri could only see what little their visor admitted before them, and even then they were still blinking darkness from their eyes. Warm and cruel hands of goo fondled their testes, a rippling wave stroking from the base of their shaft to the tip, and Anri’s orgasm was ripped from them. It was like being struck in the gut, pleasure throttling their insides as their cock pulsed with the first seed spent in years, all of which was eagerly swallowed up inside the black mass that concealed their misadventure. The undulations did not stop all the while, drawing spurt after spurt of long pent up cum out, Anri too overcome to do more than gasp in a cracked and anguished voice.

It did not let up. Even as the last drops of jism were wrung from their balls, the creature continued to pump their cock, knead their chest, lap ravenously across their asshole. Anri twisted and turned as best they could, moaning and crying and yowling for Horace. Throughout it the glob never stopped its fevered stroking at their spent cock, even as their ecstasy slowed, and Anri’s entire body sagged where they stood. It was not enough, though, and the slime became agitated, wanting for more. Sucking out the pucker of their ass, a fat tendril of sludge pushed into their hole. Anri’s voice rose to a scream as the mire that had seemed to reluctant to breach them before now gushed inside at an alarming rate, pushing upwards into their bowel easily. It was still soft, but the viscous fluid was dense enough to pry their muscles apart, widening more every second as it forced open passages that had been sealed shut and unused for centuries.

“No! Please, no more!”

Just having the cold substance upon their bare skin had been nauseating, but to have it actually penetrate their mortal frame was beyond description. It still sucked and kneaded and tugged at every part of them, pumping into their gut with pulses of rotten detritus that snagged on their tender insides, shocking Anri with pleasure and revulsion. Nothing had ever stretched them so wide, so full, not that they could recall at least, but the abominable thing had torn through every defense Anri could erect already, and the awful strangeness of it only now added to the thrill that confused their senses.

“Allfather, no more, I can’t bear it!”

Without the natural associations that may have once influenced their perspective on the sensation, the feeling of having their ass pulled wide open was entirely colored by the pleasure that was pumped into their body from every other angle. It hurt; their guts, unused to intrusion, spasming, trying to eject the creature, but for every cramp of their muscles that forced a bit out, twice as much rushed inside. It was both a constant pouring and a rhythmic fluctuation in the texture of the slop, bulging at random, pushing against their insides every which way. Behind their cock, too, it paid special care, their prostate unendingly abused by the pressure, their prick still stroked and squeezed even though it hurt so soon after orgasm, unable to soften. It was so deep within them now that Anri could not feel it in the way they could the bulge at their hole’s entrance, only a growing weight that bloomed up to even their stomach. The creature had seemed to enjoy when they spent themself before, and now it had a taste for them, Anri thought, clenching down hard as if they could remove it from their body, as if anything they had done so far had been of any use.

They shook their head from side to side, rejecting what was being done to them, begging for mercy in wet and garbled words, but they still saw the light when it appeared down one of the blackened corridors that fed into the room where they were assaulted. There were many things that glowed down here, both benign and wicked, and Anri, who could hardly form a thought now, dreaded the idea that some other aggressor would appear, see them and their defilement. Though the goo covered their body from neck to foot, their feeble struggles and the wretched moans they could not contain gave away enough. They trembled, another strike of pleasure battering their innards like a club as the slime pounded a lump against their prostate, pulling at their bosom in tandem.

“Please, please, you'll kill me! I'm going to die!”

The light rushed forward all at once, and from the darkness came Horace, a lit torch brandished like a weapon. Anri could have sobbed, their singular joy having returned to them, and they did, but not with the inflection desired, as the slime forced another large deposit of itself into their ass, stretching it so wide the muscle burned.

“Horace!” they cried hoarsely, “oh, God, it- it wont stop pumping!”

It was not what they had meant to say, but they couldn't think of anything else. Some of the slime had begun to prod the slit of their cock, just barely dipping inside as it ran ridges along the underside of the shaft. Horace rushed forward, growling furiously, reaching for them. Anri tried to reciprocate, their fingers spreading slowly, but opening their hand now felt as if it were the most herculean task they'd ever attempted. The moment Horace touched the slime, it reacted, the surface exploding into a frenzy of spines. Horace grunted, jumping back, and Anri saw a small splash of blood mist the air as he did so, having been struck in the largely unguarded palm of his hand. At the same time, on the inside of the cocoon of filth, the creature squeezed at Anri’s cock and balls so hard it near winded them, biting at their nipples, ramming their asshole wide. The threat was undisguised.

“No! Horace!”

He was not seriously injured, more inconvenienced than anything, but it was enough to have him reconsider their positions. Anri was visibly in distress, writhing about in their trap, something that tore at Horace to the bone, but the creature was aware of him and did not want to be disturbed. He had run into one of these things before, after they had been separated, a period of time that could be counted in minutes but felt impossibly long the moment he’d realized they had come apart. It had tried to surprise him from above, which, from the looks of it. was what had happened to his companion, but Horace had managed to evade it. It had burned quickly when he struck out with his torch, bubbling like hot tar and stinking horrifically, an easy enough kill, but he could not utilize the same method now, not with Anri wrapped tightly within its embrace.

As he mulled this over, Anri wheezed another strange groan, the goo undulating wildly around them. The weight in their stomach was growing unbearable, swelling their gut out enough now that their belts were cutting into their skin through the padding of their gambeson, tight and painful. Neither Anri nor Horace could see this, but Anri knew it was there, felt the heft straining their bowels. The slime twisted inside them like worms and they were close to cumming again.

“I cant!” they wailed, “it hurts so badly, please!”

Horace did not know whether Anri spoke to him or to the beast, but his heart was burning. Once again he reached out, this time with the metal knuckle of his gauntlet first. As before the gunk struck out, and it was stronger than he could have imagined, nearly knocking him back a pace as it rang against his fist at high speed. He could not burn the creature without burning Anri, could not hack at flesh that was not there, could not pry it off when it seemed to threaten them both at his approach. Horace hissed, frustrated, terrified.

“I'm coming,” he signed, frantic enough that his movements were shaking and muddled, “are you hurt?”

Instead of answering, Anri bent back and cried out so loudly the tunnels rang with it. The goo wrung another orgasm from them, pummeling their prostate in time to the frigging of their cock as it voraciously drank the cum directly from their cockhead. Every part of them was overstimulated, feeling like fire wherever it was touched, but the pleasure still lanced at their bloating belly. The beast had made them cum, twice, and they were cumming in front of Horace, unable to stop themself, hips jerking in its hold, drooling, crying, draining themself as they throbbed together.

When Anri’s head dropped back along their shoulder limply, Horace lost control of himself. He still had estus, he could heal them, but he could not watch them suffer any longer. He charged forward, arm outstretched, and again the slime shot out, ready to pierce, but this time Horace was prepared. Before it struck him he pulled back, switching hands, thrusting the torch out in place of his fist, and the creature charged right into it. It could not vocalize, or make any sound beyond the wet slithering of its fleshless self, but the entire form of it recoiled, bubbling angrily. The fire did not take, but as Horace advanced the torch, the slime retreated, opening up over Anri’s body to avoid being burned again. He waved it back and forth furiously, the goop shying away, reluctant to relinquish its prey. Anri was hardly coherent, but they saw his success, and in an exhausted gasp encouraged him.

“Get it- get it out!”

Then they stiffened and made a choked sound, still tormented by the pounding inside them. In its fright, the creature had slowed down, but it had not completely stopped its assault. So much of it was inside them now that Anri feared they would drown, the pressure in their stomach practically at their lungs, great and painful.

“Horace!”

Their ears were ringing so loudly they could not hear his grunts of triumph, nor the sickening slosh of the sludge. Anri knew Horace was succeeding, as the slime sluiced off them bit by bit, but it still stubbornly held on where it mattered most, beneath their clothes, trying to suck whatever remnants it could from Anri’s spent cock before it was forced to retreat. The pleasure persisted, but the pain of over taxation had grown to rival it now, and Anri was forced to grit their teeth to keep from hollering when it began massaging their balls roughly, as if it could squeeze the last remnants of their jism free.

Taking a deep breath, Horace touched the head of the torch directly to Anri’s drenched chest. The reaction was immediate, the sludge all falling down from their upper body as once, like snow shaken from a bough, and it was enough for him to be able to drop the weapon and push Anri with both hands. They were not able to keep themself upright on their own, but the force knocked them back out of the furious puddle, staggering til their back met the wall before falling hard on their rump. Horace did not have time to attend to them, turning on the now defenseless slime with vengeful intent. It knew it had lost, already trying to crawl away, but the substance was slow on its own, without gravity’s mercy. Horace drew his blade.

To be free was an enormous weight lifted, Anri finally able to breathe properly, their chest, unencumbered by groping, heaving beneath their tunic. Their escape was not complete, however, as their head lolled forward and with bleary eyes Anri saw now, for the first time, how distended their gut had become. while being separated from the greater mass had slowed the churning in their bowels, it had by no means ceased it, whatever unholy means animated this lump of putrid flesh and dark continuing to do so regardless. Below their swollen gut, too, they saw with horror that the creature had eaten through their trousers entirely over the course of their coupling, their still erect cock bobbing in the open air, coated in an inky film.

Horace slammed his halberd down onto the creature over and over, til the wet slap of his blade slicing through the thick jelly turned to the crisp ringing of metal on stone. Writhing like cut snakes, the severed slivers illuminated harshly by the still smoldering torchlight, easy prey for Horace’s boots. Fat maggot popped beneath his feet. The feral intensity with which Horace dispatched the thing was one he knew, in the back of his mind, to be unhealthy, a sign of his humanity leeching away, but Anri’s pitiful cries had cut him so deeply that until every last twitching tendril was cut down his eyes were drenched red. His own panting shadow looked like a beast upon the wall. Coming back to himself, Horace turned to where Anri had fallen, already reaching for his estus flask. It was only then that he saw Anri clearly, and he paused.

Pressed to the wall, moaning weakly, Anri attempted to get to their feet. Their hands scrabbled messily against the wall, slick with residue, only managing to lift themself off one knee before a spasm took them and they cried out softly.

“H-Horace, don’t look, please!”

It was too late. Horace could clearly see between their legs where their cock hung twitching, fat droplets of black glop clinging to their inner thighs. Some of the creature, he could now see, had remained attached to his beloved friend, dripping from their backside as they struggled to stand up, still wriggling as if to mock him.

“Wait!”

They could not stop him from rushing to their side, even as they seemed to cower away from his arms. Horace, unsure of what to do, grabbed Anri by the shoulder as gently as he could manage in his distress, trying to get them to face him. At this distance he could see too their stomach, even as they hunched over, how it pressed painfully into the belts around their waist. The realization hit him like a fist.

“I'm sorry,” Anri gasped out, relenting to Horace’s touch immediately, “it happened so fast, and I couldn't move-!” they broke off with another pained grunt, clutching their gut. Horace reached instinctively after them, but hesitated, unsure if he would only hurt them further. Anri laughed joylessly, audibly weeping.

“I suppose I've really done it now, haven't I?”

Sitting back so they could see him clearly, Horace signed to them.

“What can I do?”

Anri shook their head, trembling with another cramp.

“I don't know, its, its so deep inside me.”

Horace glanced down again reflexively and was immediately embarrassed, though Anri could not see his transgression. They had grown together, spent the decades in one another's care, and through it all Horace had remained respectful of his friend, never giving in to the desires that had long itched beneath his breast. Even when they lay close together on sleepless nights, sharing their wounds, Horace had kept his touches chaste and careful, always aware of how tenuous the trust between them could become should he cross that line, how much Anri needed someone who was not a threat in their life. It was awful of him to be stirred by the sight now, too, when Anri was clearly in such deep distress, their muscles quivering from the strain of remaining upright, their breath catching with tears. It was another sign of his rapidly depleting sanity, he was sure, that hunger and lack of morals that came with hollowing. Even as he reprimanded himself, his eyes continued to dart down before he could stop them, devouring the sight of Anri’s darkly flushed cock, their tender balls swaying between their legs.

“We have to push,” Horace said, trying to keep his mind on track.

“It needs to come out.”

“I-I know,” Anri sniffled, shifting uneasily, “I just…” they looked away.

It was shifting within them still, sluggish but stimulating. Their insides were softened and opened wide for the beast, full and aching with its squirming mass. Without the rest of it to keep them plugged, sludge dripped from their gaped hole, pooling between their legs where it rippled contentedly.

Horace shuffled in close again, and this time Anri did not resist him, too tired and too ashamed. When his hand came down to join theirs upon their stomach, they flinched, but not due to fear of Horace. The steady pressure was boiling behind their groin. With a soft noise, he pushed down.

“Oh, it’s-!”

They weren't sure what they had intended to say, breaking off with a grunt as they clenched down hard in response, a gush of slime bursting forth. Their hole had been so mercilessly stretched that now they could not stop the flood even if they had desired to, only able to cling to their friend as what had pushed its way in was now forced out at twice the speed. Horace pushed steadily harder, able to feel the thing moving inside them. He could not imagine how it must hurt, but at the same time they knew that was not all Anri was feeling, as they laid their helm upon his shoulder with a shuddering moan. The feeling of it dragging along their raw innards as it exited them was tipping them again towards ecstasy, something Anri dreaded within Horace’s embrace.

“Horace, I’m so sorry,” they cried, because their forlorn cock was hard and pressing between them. Horace knew, he could feel it on his leg, and he was trying his best to ignore it even though Anri was clearly in pain. His own dick throbbed behind his codpiece, as it had been since he first saw their condition, and he hated himself for it. Heat was radiating off Anri in a way he had never known it to, in a way it rarely did for Undead. He wanted to touch them.

“Forgive me,” Anri babbled, the creature thrashing their innards as it evacuated, wet and filthy. Horace’s hand was so close to their needy sex, those wonderful, loving hands that held them through the worst of their nightmares. Anri squeezed their eyes closed.

Then, with a final lewd slurp, the last of the monster dropped between their legs. It immediately extended out in all directions, searching for another warm and wet sanctuary, but before any of that could be realized Horace kicked the torch, still burning where he’d dropped it, close enough that the thing recoiled. He couldn't get up to fight it off, with Anri still slumped in his hold, but he could threaten it, enough that it receded away through the dirty waters, out of their circle of light. He wanted to chase it down, slaughter it for what it had done, but Anri twitched against him, mumbling more apologies, and he could feel their hard cock brush his thigh.

“Oh!” Anri breathed, “I…”

Horace wrapped his hand around their shaft. It was an impulsive act, and once he’d done it he just sat there a moment, shocked with himself. It was only when Anri rocked into the touch with another little moan that the reality of it set in. The line had been crossed.

“I'm so close.”

Anri was too beyond exhausted to think rationally, and after the clammy grip of the slime had teased them so, Horace’s solid gloves were a welcome change. Horace shifted his grip to better accommodate their thrusting hips, tightening his grasp determinedly. If he was to do this, he would do it well, ease Anri’s need with kindness. They were indeed noticeably close to cumming, their prick jumping in his hold. It was as erotic a sight as he had drempt it would be, if only for how much he desired it. Their cock was flushed heavily from the torture it had been subjected to, but the slickness left behind made it easy to frig them even with his rough gauntlets on. He swallowed thickly, moving gently along to the uncertain rhythm of their tired rutting, his other hand questing down below their twitching balls.

Their hole was still wide and winking. Horace couldn't see it, but the moment his fingers touched the swollen rim, Anri groaned loudly, jerking their hips into him.

“Oh, Horace! Horace!”

He pulled at their cock firmly, mind swimming. Anri was so hot pressed up to him, so real. He dipped his fingers into their hole, open and wanting, feeling the smooth folds of their intestine contract, drooling serum. Anri was so loose, so ready for him, and Horace was caught by the pure animal need to throw them back and bury himself as deep as he could, the impunity of a hollowed mind beckoning as he pressed his fingers in more, heard the slick squelch of their ruined hole. His lips peeled back from his teeth.

“Oh!”

Anri came in Horace’s lap with a sudden jerk, and his mind snapped back from the brink. It was a quick orgasm, already wrung dry, their cock dribbling pathetically, but it was a release and with that they collapsed fully. Horace pulled his hands back like he’d been burned, ashamed of himself, and afraid. He did not have time to contemplate it though, as Anri thanked him numbly, gripping at his chest with their beleaguered hands.

“I'm sorry,” they said again, “I didn't mean to… force such a thing upon you.”

Horace could not respond, his hands busy holding them up. It was an awkward position, though, and after a moment of nervous shuffling he managed to sit them down up against the wall at their back, so that he himself could take a moment to relax as well. Anri leaned heavily on his shoulder.

“I think I have a patch kit,” they mumbled, Horace doing his best to avoid looking at their now softened cock, “when we get to the next bonfire, I can… deal with this.”

He just nodded. They were falling asleep, and while this was not the most ideal location, Horace had no intention of stopping them. They both needed it, though he was not sure he was going to sleep again for weeks. As their breathing turned deep and even, he sat awake, staring into the darkness of the tomb, desperately ignoring his rock solid dick and his racing thoughts and the deep, cavernous dread that had opened beneath him as he wondered what Anri would say to him once they awoke, and what he might do in response.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So, why do YOU think Horace snapped in the catacombs? C;<


End file.
